


The Archived Verse of an Elysian Disciple

by BodhiSeongBae



Category: Original Work
Genre: Alternate Universe - Greek Mythology, Being Lost, Biblical References, Bodhi is back, Buddhism, Dead Poets Society - Freeform, Feelings, Heartbreak, Hurt, Love, Memories, Mythology References, Original Poems, Other, Pain, Poems, Poetry, References to Depression, Rhyming, Soul-Searching, i am nobody who are you, poets, read for a new soul
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-25
Updated: 2018-11-25
Packaged: 2019-08-29 10:03:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16741924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BodhiSeongBae/pseuds/BodhiSeongBae
Summary: I crave knowledge.When I pass like great heroes before,I hope their chests grow, pride of a mentor.Welcome me with open arms, you old stories,A new friend amongst the Elysian Fields;They are part of my soul, I their shields,None more loyal than the Canis Major—Will they tell of me, a great mind like the shore?Will they tell me truth, ideas I’ve so longed for?Surely this whirlpool will reveal secret galaxies.Many questions I have, many answers I’ll findIn the archived files of mankind.





	The Archived Verse of an Elysian Disciple

_The Archived Verse of an Elysian Disciple_

By Bodhi Jolie Lark

I crave knowledge.

 

I need to know why history exists—

I need to touch each decade, each story,

How _each_ moment passed in glory.

I need to capture the emotions—the emotions

Of every citizen during their city’s great fall.

I crave the artists of Greece, their modeling doll,

The turning of our world into appreciation

Of the knowledge I seek.

I hear of their strong, but I must know their weak.

 

Why must the subject of appreciation change?

Why do some die out, destroy their scrapbooks?

Why is truth only told in hidden crooks,

Books of long ago with words that fail to grasp

The entirety of that mystery?

Why do we live in uncertainty of our history?

If this knowledge stands available,

Where lies the new social course?

Why do I question our main source,

Despite stone evidence, written affirmations and

Holes and buildings within the Earth?

Could I describe it all, should I possess everlasting birth?

 

I would spend that eternity, surely, describing it for you.

 

I crave _knowledge_.

What will we write for _this_ evanesce?

Will it sound real? Will our grandchildren inherit a different Atlantis?

I desire the _absolute_ _truth_.

Not secrets, not theories or suggesters—

I desire the _absolute truth_ of our ancestors.

I need their knowledge, their experiences, their opinions—

Why? Because I crave _life_.

A Roman struck me down, but oh joy, a Monk relieves the strife!

A Greek seduced me with arts and a sad song

While a friendly Jew sewed me a coat of bright;

When I close my eyes, these stories are my sight.

Centuries of knowledge, but words fail to stretch—

Every rubber band can break.

But I hold a power, one of returning in time awake,

No others do as I do, remains of the final knowledge craver;

My history, through recalled in glory

Cannot be true unless you live the story.

 

I crave knowledge.

When I pass like great heroes before,

I hope their chests grow, pride of a mentor.

Welcome me with open arms, you old stories,

A new friend amongst the Elysian Fields;

They are part of my soul, I their shields,

None more loyal than the Canis Major—

Will they tell of me, a great mind like the shore?

Will they tell me truth, ideas I’ve so longed for?

Surely this whirlpool will reveal secret galaxies.

Many questions I have, many answers I’ll find

In the archived files of mankind.

 

I crave _knowledge_.

 

We turn forward—there, a bright white light!

Is the lamp Macedonian? Who was the sculptor?

Is it white stone or a marbled color?

Why did they carve it so?

Even still…our seeking craves sight.

We look right.

All our group, the Israelites, the French Revolutionists,

The Trojans, the Greeks, the Persians,

The Na-Dene, the Muslims, the Europa versions—

I feel as if my heart knows no knowledge,

But all at once, they fill the cup to the brim.

The light flickered dim.

Our hearts raced as I stepped forth, reaching outright,

Extending my arm to this divine sunlight—

 

I crave knowledge.

 

_I revive history._

**Author's Note:**

> written by me, Bodhi! yeet.


End file.
